Drawing

'Odyssey'

Pen on paper

Abstract drawings from my journal

Poem

I cannot rest..

by Zaina Anwar

It is slightly sweet the scent

of your breath

as you lie here oblivious

to all but your dreams,

so dangerously close

to me.

I want to run I have

always wanted to run

this stuffy atmosphere

of placid intimacy

is not suitable

for a wanderer like me.

I am not interested

in you or anything else

for this turbulent inner life

of mine would not let me rest,

poking constantly

at my heart to flee.

Intimacy binds,

a trap lies in wait

or maybe it's just

a psychological flaw

in me

never fixed.

O but I cannot rest

I fall and lift myself

exhausted,

caught in a closed circle

like a frenzied moth fleeing

from one flash of illusion

to another.

Drawing

'King Beetle'

Pen on paper

Finally, relief!

Something very strange happened on my blog today. When I logged in and viewed my dashboard, I was horrified to see that my blog and reading list as well as my email address (normally displayed in the blue bar right at the top) had disappeared and replaced by someone else's blogger dashboard. The logging in bit was fine and smooth as ever. My home page remained safe, no undesirable content was added as would be expected if my blog had been hacked. I could add new posts and receive and moderate my comments. Nevertheless, my first instinct was that a hacker was at work. I spent hours in the help forum reading and posting my complaint. Finally, after nine hours and quite out of the blue, my dashboard appeared, exactly as it was before with no changes or suspicious content. I still don't know exactly what happened and whether my blog was actually hijacked. If there is anyone amongst my readers who has encountered a similar problem and knows the reason behind it, please enlighten me.

My blog has been hacked!!

My Blog has been hacked. I am currently trying to deal with this problem.

Poem

Could This Be My Dying Hour

What am I to her
but a mere vestige
of a memory long ago
banished to an attic
of lost and discolored
artifacts.

How would she feel
if by chance she came
upon my photograph,
faded and frayed
at the edges and abandoned
by time itself?

Would she frown
at the remembrance
of events best forgotten
and curse the phantoms
of the past disrespecting
her cherished serenity?

Will she forgive me now
that her hair is silvery grey
and the deep black
velvet mane
has slowly over the years,
simply faded away?

These questions I ask
clearly betray,
to me my guilty conscience,
heavily compounded
by a fear that breaks
my cold and calculated reticence.

How strange that Time
which seemed to be
in youth, an eternity,
has miraculously shrunk
into a finiteness through which
I gape in horror-
in horror at my own,
mortality.



(The image above is the work of the great artist, Kathe Kollwitz)

Painting

'The Chief'
Acrylic on paper

Poem

Untitled
by Zaina Anwar

Piece by piece
with infinite care,
I built the world
upon which you now
rule without a care
or a thought,
so heartless you
infernal beast,
that you should stand
smirking as you
trample beneath your
cursed feet,
the world founded
on my dreams.

Drawing

Coloring pens on paper
(click to enlarge)

Another box recycled

The thing I like about this box is that it has these tiny compartments which is perfect for my collection of Afghan jewellery.

Paintings

'The Melancholy Bard'
Acrylic on paper

(sorry for the bad picture)

Poem

A Strange Encounter
by Zaina Anwar

High up in the midst
of weathered mountain peaks
where lack of oxygen thins the air,
I found myself standing,
led by a curious instinct,
on a huge granite boulder jutting
out over a grey-crusted glacier.
\I looked down upon the crevasses,
carved like a million bloodless gashes
into the earth by the scimitars
of vengeful prehistoric gods.
Into these wide-mouthed wounds
I stared and wondered
at the inevitable flux of nature.
\As I stood thus pondering
upon my own insignificance
in the face of earth's mighty power,
I saw an old man approaching,
hunchbacked with a pustuled scar
running down his cheek.
Eerily he had emerged,
like an apparition
from a mist shrouded
landscape.
\He extended towards me his clenched
hand with calloused knuckles and skin
peeling off and slowly unfolded
his trembling fist to reveal
the most beautiful medley
of lapis lazuli and topaz,
garnet and gleaming chrysolite.
\There we stood face to face,
on that cantilever of rock and ice
and a freezing wind,
dry as paper lifted
my hair and ruffled
his ageless white beard-
I realized then that I was locked
in an absurd encounter
in a strange, silent land.
\With wild rheumy eyes he gazed
solemnly into mine,
his lips contorted to utter
words I could not recognize.
Then all of a sudden he placed
his hand against my heart
and offered a deep,
muted prayer.
\Within the next few
minutes he was gone
and I was left looking around,
dazed and shocked and a strange euphoria
invading my being-
all my loneliness melted away,
I was light as a feather and the mountains
had ceased to be strange.
\Never have I experienced such esctasy
or revelled so deeply in nature's glory
so that even now when so much
time has slowly trickled away,
I can still recall clearly-
the memory is safely sealed,
of the man who made me walk that day,
I don't know how and I don't know why,
a few inches above the ground.

(Semi-autobiographical and it also reflects my interest in mysticism)